


Clearing The Air

by Triss_Hawkeye



Category: Bastion
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Post-Evacuation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:46:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3272216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triss_Hawkeye/pseuds/Triss_Hawkeye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After evacuating, you gotta learn to live with each other. For Rucks and Zulf, well, that's not gonna be easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clearing The Air

The two figures paced slowly along the edge of the Bastion where the grass gave way to stone, girders, and finally the open sky. One pale and slight, wrapped in the warm, bright clothes of the Ura. One tanned with a ruffled shock of white hair and a large moustache, dressed in worn Mancers’ garb and leaning on a stick.

The Kid watched from the mouth of his tent. He was too far away to hear their words, but he could see the frown darkening Rucks’ face and Zulf’s agitated gestures as he spoke with a controlled but none-the-less evident passion that bordered on fury, judging by the look in his eyes. The Kid wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees with a sigh. He felt a little guilty for watching a private conversation, but he was worried.

He was so absorbed that he barely noticed Zia approaching until she sat down next him. He turned to look at her with a start and was taken aback by how sad she looked.

Zia was quiet, when she wasn’t singing. The Kid had taken it for shyness at first, but he soon realised that she was simply understated. There might be a few careful words and a slight lift in the corners of her mouth, but it was in her eyes, dark and sparkling beneath her fringe, that she smiled bright enough to light the world. Now, though, she looked as if she was on verge of tears.

The Kid bit his lip, and felt his stomach sink within him. “They need this,” he said, to convince himself as much as to comfort her. “To get it all out of themselves. Clear the air. Then we can put it all behind us. Go back to being friends again. Just like before. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

"But what if it’s not?" she asked softly. She curled herself up in imitation of him and buried her face in the thick fabric of her skirts. The Kid had no answer to that. He knew that she was remembering the last time this happened. When Zulf had found out the truth behind the Calamity…half the truth, anyway. The Kid’d returned only to catch the very end of that particular confrontation, but he remembered the fury in Zulf’s eyes. The same black, glittering fury he saw now.

"I thought…this’d be all I wanted," the singer whispered. "But it’s only us four here…and if they can’t work it out…"

"Life would be a misery," the Kid finished. "We evacuated so we could rebuild. Not fight amongst ourselves."

"Mmm."

Of course the Kid had been angry at what Zulf had done to the Bastion. And he was angry about the Calamity. At everything he’d had to destroy to try and fix it. Everyone he’d had to kill to try to put things right. Destruction after destruction. Maybe that’s why he’d saved Zulf back then. He understood that anger. And, more than anything, he’d just wanted the death and destruction and anger to stop. It was slow and painful, but he’d forgiven Zulf, and now he was beginning to forgive himself.

Rucks, on the other hand - he had a good heart, that man, but the Bastion had been his life’s work. He’d put everything into it, his hopes and dreams, his guilt and fears. When Zulf sent his people to try to destroy it, he took it personally. And he’d been so caught up in getting the Bastion finished, so sure that they could put everything back the way it was, that living with the consequences and having to face Zulf again, having to deal with it all and move on - that was something he just hadn’t prepared for.

The two men had reached the statue of Pyth and were just standing there, talking quietly. A little more calmly perhaps, though the Kid might just have been hopeful. Zulf’s head was bowed slightly, in almost automatic reverence to the idol. Rucks was simply looking at the golden bull with distaste. He’d never been fond of the gods. Now, it seemed, he downright despised them.

Something must’ve snapped, because the next thing the Kid knew, Rucks had aimed an angry kick at the idol. 

"D’you think you’re the only one who lost everything?" he yelled, load enough for the words to carry. Zia looked up in alarm. The Kid felt that too. He hadn’t ever heard Rucks shout like that.

Neither had Zulf. He stood motionless, stunned. Then something snapped for him too. A different sort of something. To the Kid’s surprise, tears began to roll out of those black eyes. The wind shifted and brought Zulf’s words to his ears.

"No… no. I just… I miss her, Rucks. Gods, I miss her so much.”

Zulf’s face crumpled, and ineffectually he brought his arm up to his eyes in an attempt to control the sobs that were fighting to break out of him. Everything that had happened. That horror and despair the Kid had seen on his stricken face the first time they met. The anger and disbelief at the cause of the Calamity. It was all coming out now.

Rucks’ expression softened and, a little awkwardly, he put an arm around Zulf’s back. Barely caring about their previous argument, Zulf wept into the older man’s shoulder. 

"I’m sorry." Rucks’ murmured words were blown over, quieter than a whisper but weighted somehow, before the wind shifted again and took them away. The Kid looked at his feet. It seemed wrong to be watching at this point. He glanced back over at Zia.

She too was crying. The tears in her eyes were spilling out, and her lips were pursed in an effort to hold them back. She finally let out her breath in a half-sob, half-laugh.

The Kid felt a lump in his throat and felt a similar mixture of sorrow and relief churning in his stomach. Gently, he put his arm around Zia, who leant her head on his shoulder. It seemed the thing to do.

It was a while later and getting dark when Zulf and Rucks joined them back at the campfire. Zia had taken out her harp and was playing a slow, quiet tune. The Kid was just sitting silently, watching her fingers move over the strings. They both looked up and smiled as the two men sat down with gruff nods to them and each other.

Things would never go back to the way they were. And they all still had a lot work through. But somehow the Kid got the feeling that, in time, everything was going be all right. And for now, that was enough.


End file.
